


Tell It Like It Is

by Falconette



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 19:28:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1699865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falconette/pseuds/Falconette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Romance blooming in the harshest of places</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell It Like It Is

**Tell It Like It Is**

 

You could tell when exactly your interest in Jean started. It was on that late afternoon in summer when you walked in on him changing. He must have been late with his chores, way behind the group because you remembered vividly how the soft sunset light made his skin ruddy and glowing. It was too late for dinner; in fact, you just finished yours and wanted to use the bathroom so you didn’t bother checking if anyone else was there.  
  
With his back to the door, Jean was preparing to take a shower, loosening the straps on his thighs, stripping the belts down one by one and placing them carefully on a hook to avoid tangles. His body language was unmistakable, you already knew him that well just by being in the same platoon, so you hesitated to enter. The way his shoulders rigidly moved, his hands jerking through automatic motions of unbuckling the clasps, the way his jaw clenched. He was angry and the way he took his shirt off, finally free of the 3D maneuver system belts, and flung it across the room just confirmed your hunch. The sweat-drenched cloth flew, propelled by the momentum of his swing, and knocked down his boots that stood in the corner.  
  
The sound startled you and a quiet yelp escaped your mouth. His head spun towards the door, one eye glaring at you over his shoulder.  
  
„Oh, sorry!“ you flinched when his gaze locked with yours, as if challenging you to take him on. He was scary when he was like that. “I didn’t know somebody was in here.”  
  
He turned back then slowly walked to where his shirt laid on the floor, picked it up and set his boots straight again. He moved over to hooks and placed the shirt there, folding it carefully. You were so surprised by the lack of his reaction that you just remained standing there in the door frame, feeling like an idiot.  
  
Jean cast another sideways glance at you, the hardness of his eyes now gone. He must have noticed how your gaze lingered on red lines across his muscled back where the belts left their marks, because he tauntingly said, “If you want to stay and watch, I won’t mind.”  
  
His hands started unbuttoning his pants and that’s what nudged you out of your daze. You frowned, shook your head at his immaturity and turned on your heel to leave, but not before you noted a grin spread across his face.  
  
The jerk.  


* * *

  
He must have noticed your interest, sometimes you felt it was obvious to the whole squad. Wherever he went, your eyes were sure to follow, sneaking a peek at his hands, back, nape of his neck where the dark undercut gave way to sun-lightened, longer locks. You were hiding it, of course, it would do no good to be associated with the boys like Jean, but you couldn’t help blushing every time he was the topic. Which was often, since he always seemed to either get into all sorts of trouble or brag so openly it was impossible not to overhear.   
  
What you didn’t know is that you, yourself, were watched.  
  
Now that you look back at it, it was only to be expected for someone like Jean to take the initiative. Somewhere during winter, when the nights came early and everybody went to bed with the first dusk, usually to just toss and turn, some tortured by the dread of the titans, some lovesick, is when he first approached you.  
  
You woke up and went to the bathroom, careful not to wake anybody. There was just enough moonlight to show you a way amid bunks and through narrow corridors and you hurried because it was almost as cold inside as it was outside. On your way back, you walked straight into a figure leaning against the door frame.   
  
“We could make this place our meeting point.” you couldn’t make out his face, but the voice was Jean’s nonchalant tone. And seemingly in good humor, despite the late hour.  
  
“You scared me!” you banged an angry fist against his chest and it recoiled right back. His pectorals were surprisingly firm. “What were you thinking!?”  
  
“Ouch.” he hissed in feigned pain, obviously content to see you unnerved. “Nothing, I just couldn’t sleep. Lately all sorts of thoughts have kept me awake at night.” he added pointedly.  
  
Your eyebrows rose as you looked at him questioningly, his expression just barely distinguishable in the pale moonlight. The smirk was there alright, but he did not sneer.   
  
“What was that, just now?” he ignored the edge in your glare. Instead, he took your hand and placed it back on his chest, slowly and deliberately, spreading your fingers against his shirt. “I could tell just by the way you hit that you are not used to touching male anatomy. With your strength, you cannot really hurt me if you hit me here.”  
  
“Sometimes I spar with the boys.” you said stubbornly, feeling your neck and ears burn with embarrassment. “And believe me, I know where to hit to hurt you plenty.” You pulled your hand from his grip, leaving him speechless with your ferocity, and walked past him towards the dorms.  
  
“Hey!” Jean called after you but you ignored him, clutching your fingers in a fist. The warmth of his body still lingered there. Strangely, you wanted to preserve it as long as possible.  


* * *

  
“Are you ignoring me?” Jean’s voice trailed after you just when you thought your horse had finally outpaced his. Leaving the base behind, you headed out to patrol your scope of the surrounding territory, appreciating it as one of those uneventful, tedious tasks which are granted instead of a day off from the training.   
  
You did not miss that Jean’s name appeared next to yours on the list for the chore this morning, making your heart flutter for a moment and sink in the next. Even though you often fantasized about being alone with him, the reality of it actually happening irrationally scared you. So you pushed your horse harder, hoping to leave the mixed emotions behind you.  
  
“Hey, come on!” his voice was becoming impatient as he spurred his horse on, catching up with you. “We’re supposed to work as a team!”  
  
“We will cover more ground faster if we split up!” you shouted without looking back, cursing under breath at how shaky and unconvincing your voice sounded.  
  
“Wait, there is something I want to ask you!” he was closer yet, almost close enough for his horse’s steaming breath to scald your back.  
  
“I don’t need your opinions on hitting or touching. Besides, it is my day off from training!” you yelled, hell-bent to keep the advantage and head back as soon as you reach the other fence.   
  
Jean’s horse suddenly galloped alongside yours and took the lead, then intercepted your path, making your horse prance on its rear legs. You tried to calm the animal, but the momentum threw you violently off its back and sent you sprawling into the high grass. It was all over in a second and in a blink of an eye you found yourself looking at the sky from the ground. Jean’s face immediately appeared in your view, a worried expression twisting his brow.  
  
“Shit, are you hurt?” his voice was unusually high pitched.  
  
“I don’t know.” you croaked as you struggled to get some air in your lungs, since the fall violently knocked the breath out of you. You tried moving your arms, then legs, then head and everything appeared unharmed. Jean knelt beside you, attentively observing your condition, helping you sit up. Your ribs hurt and dozens of places on your arms and legs ached, but you managed to shakily stand up. Jean’s hands were already firmly set around your waist, steadying your body.   
  
“I am ok.” you started brushing the dirt and grass off of your uniform, deliberately avoiding his anxious gaze.  
  
“Are you sure?” he asked uneasily, guilt and panic written across his face.  
  
“Yes, yes.” you hastily replied, suddenly very aware of his hands on your body, of his presence in your personal space. Your voice was angry, still shaken from the shock of the tumble. “Who would go and do a stupid thing like that?!”  
  
Jean’s shoulders slumped and he backed away, scanning the horizon. “Your horse is gone.” he pretended he didn’t hear your question and started whistling for the animal to return.  
  
“It’s no good.” he said flatly after several minutes. “It is probably halfway back to the stables by now.” He turned to you, looking at you from above, his usual cool restored. “We will have to go together on my horse. Climb up behind me.”  
  
There was no sense in arguing. Besides, your body started to ache all over, walking back in this condition seemed unimaginable and Jean was already on his horse, extending a hand for you to grab on to. And so you did, straddling the horse and positioning yourself behind him.  
  
“Hold on tight.” he commanded in a no-nonsense tone, sitting bolt-upright. “I don’t want you repeating that stunt again.”  
  
You mumbled how it was his fault you fell in the first place while placing your arms loosely around his waist.  
  
“Tighter.” he said dryly, with a hint of nervousness and you complied, snugging against his broad back. You rested your cheek in a warm valley between his shoulder blades, where it seemed to fit perfectly. Jean’s spine straightened up even more rigidly, flexing the firm muscles of his stomach and back. You felt nothing could possibly hurt you while you held on to this strong body, having had no idea that boys were so robust. You could feel yourself blush, thankful he couldn’t see your expression.  
  
“Just get going already.” you tried to sound as annoyed as possible.  
  
“H-hai.” he nodded meekly and gave the horse a light signal with a spur on his boot. After a few paces, the familiarity of horseback riding took over and he began to relax and fall into more natural position, enabling you to enjoy the waves of motions his muscles rippled through when set in motion.   
  
Silence that followed soon turned awkward.  
  
“So, what was it?” you tried to break the ice.  
  
“Huh!?” Jean appeared to have been interrupted in the middle of a thought and squirmed uncomfortably shifting his weight in the saddle. “What ‘it’?”  
  
“The thing you wanted to know so badly you almost got me killed.” you shot back with a dose of reproach you didn’t bother to mask.  
  
“Ah, yes, about that….” his voice was calm but his posture said otherwise. “I was wondering if there was somebody you liked.”  
  
“Are you serious!?” you moved away from him, incredulously glared at the nape of his neck and went into instinctive defense mode, “What do you care?”  
  
“Look,” he was getting flustered and impatient, his gaze purposely fixed forward “I wasn’t kidding when I told you that certain things have kept me awake lately.”  
  
Being direct came so easy to him, but you were another story. You dug your face back into his spine and tightly squeezed your eyes shut. Was this really happening?  
  
“What do I care how you sleep at night?” you muttered into the weatherworn fabric of his uniform, holding on firmly to his waist.  
  
He didn’t reply for some time and when he spoke, his voice sounded somewhat hurt, “So, is there someone you like?”  
  
“I don’t know.” you retorted dismissively, praying he wouldn’t press the issue.  
  
“What do you know then?” Jean’s tone grew more irritated.  
  
“I know was supposed to patrol with Connie today.” you mumbled with your cheek firmly pressed to his back.  
  
“Are you sorry it is me instead of him here?” his question was a mixture of frustration and insecurity. You didn’t respond for couple of moments, then shook your head against his shoulder blade.   
  
“Did you swap places with him on purpose?” your voice was muffled by his uniform, barely audible. You didn’t dare ask, you couldn’t go on without knowing.  
  
“This is stupid!” Jean exclaimed in frustration after several silent seconds and brought his horse to a sudden halt. He turned his head to look at you over his shoulder and you peeled your cheek away from his back, meeting his gaze. “I suck at playing these games.” he said earnestly, nervousness tensing his body in your arms. Since you made no sound or movement, petrified by the turn of events, he pried open your fingers and dismounted.   
  
“I cannot ride with you leaning on me like that, it’s too much.” he mumbled and fidgeted with the reins as his face visibly reddened. He looked upwards, at you, mustering courage, “Either you stay on the horse and I walk us back to the base, or you get down here and…” he gulped, “we talk.”  
  
You must have shot him a confused look, because he couldn’t contain himself any longer.  
  
“I like you!” he exclaimed, looking you straight in the eyes, clutching at the horse’s mane so hard his knuckles turned white to keep his hands steady.  
  
You stared at him, unblinking, feeling your heart pound in your throat, choking all the words. Jean’s golden eyes looked up at you expectantly, then confusedly, then sadly. He looked away eventually, embarrassed.  
  
“Well, then…” he slowly turned and petted the horse’s head like it was the animal that needed comfort. “Let’s head back.”  
  
He made a few steps forward and the horse was starting to follow, when you found it in you to swing your leg to the side and dismount into the grass. The movement reminded you that fresh bruises were blossoming all over your body from the fall, but the dull pain seemed far and unimportant now. Either he didn’t hear you or didn’t dare to turn back, so you made a few paces towards him and put a hand on his biceps.  
  
“Jean…” you called out, having no idea what to do or say next. He did. Like he was just waiting for the cue, he turned to you, his face void of the usual self conceited smirk that put the distance between him and the world, and with a single quick stride closed in the distance between you two. Your eyes met for a second, he silently sought a permission and after he found what he was looking for in your gaze, his arms wrapped themselves around yours, pulling you close to him like you were feather light. He smelled of hay and salty leather and… something new, something warm. It must have been him, Jean.  
  
He moved away just so he could look at you, like he had to make sure you were real and then, without hesitation, his lips darted towards yours, covering them in hot kisses. Despite yourself, you reacted back, pulling him closer and feeling his embrace around you tighten. The horse neighed and stamped its hooves, spooked by the commotion, but remained in place. You didn’t care. Jean’s arms were keeping your mind and body busy, joggling you between anguish and thrill.  
  
You didn’t expect him to be so gentle, being the notorious loudmouth of the platoon, but the hands he used to swing twin blades and tackle the enemy now caressed your face and hair most tenderly. The fingers, callused and scarred from handling of the propelling wire, left no cuts on your lips, only burning hunger for more so you started to kiss them, wanting to swipe the harshness they faced away. Jean smiled at that gesture, cupping your chin in his palm. His eyes were warm and deep, studying your face.  
  
“You are so stubborn,” he shook his head jokingly “I had to knock you off your horse to get you to stop running from me.”  
  
There was really nothing you could say to that and his smile broadened at the sight of you flustering.   
  
“No more games from now on, ok?” his expression was kind and earnest, a sight you rarely saw on Jean’s face. His eyes seemed to sink into yours. “We tell it like it is. Honestly.”  
  
You nodded, immensely relieved. Feeling Jean so close to you, touching his face with your lips felt unfamiliar but strangely calming, like you belonged there, in his arms, leaning to his chest, resting your chin on his collarbone.  
  
“It is better that you report an injury when we come back and stay put.” he whispered under his breath eventually, holding you in a tight embrace. You were both reluctant to let go, even though dusk started to settle in and the horse grew restless. “We are being deployed to a clean-up mission to Trost in couple of days and I would prefer to keep you out of that hell.”  
  
“How do you know that? Isn’t something like that supposed to be confidential?” you wondered.  
  
He paused for a moment, studying your face.  
  
“We tell it like it is.” you reminded him in a lecturing tone.  
  
A genuine smile he couldn’t repress bloomed on his face, so far from his usual smirk and so much more beautiful.  
  
“Fair enough.” Jean said, looking at you with a growing appreciation, “I am due for a promotion so info has begun trickling down from the brass before the paperwork formalities are taken care of. You know how inert the capital’s bureaucracy is.”  
  
You nodded even though you had no idea about how anything in the capital worked, as he straightened and combed your hair with his long, shapely fingers. You never noticed this serious, businesslike side of Jean before which naturally demanded obedience.  
  
“So this mishap might have been a blessing in disguise.” he explained and smiled, “In more ways than one. Report an injury. Stay put.” he repeated, a stern glint in his eyes, which immediately softened. “That way I will have an excuse to visit your bunk until we receive the official order.”  
  
“Alright.” you kissed his neck, feeling the pulse there vibrate on the soft skin of your lips, pulling at some finer strings inside you. Your thoughts were already on the promised future couple of days of rest as you gently bit into his neck, making him groan softly.  


* * *

  
  
The orders came sooner than expected and Jean had barely had the time to come around to your cot and announce his departure in the murky dawn. He was already wearing full gear, clumsily making his way with wide sheaths through narrow passageways, rushing behind the schedule.  
  
“Please take care of yourself.” an unfamiliar dread clenched at your heart when he woke you up to kiss you goodbye and he could hear it in your voice. He didn’t tell you that tears weren’t befitting a soldier, whom you were, or his woman, who was supposed to be his support. Instead, he took his time to linger and sit on your bed, ignoring comrades who were rushing and calling him, and gently swiped the trickling with his fingers.  
  
“Nobody ever cried for me before.” Jean managed a smile but you could see how pale and frightened he himself was. He looked a lot younger and, in a way, a lot older than his age. “I have to go, but I will come back.” he said unwaveringly while looking you straight in the eyes.  
  
“Promise?” you choked a sigh.  
  
“I tell it like it is, remember?” he replied sternly. And then he left.  


* * *

  
  
The platoon returned two weeks later, with a new commander and with only half the soldiers it had departed with. Jean was nowhere to be seen. After he submitted his reports to high command, he was ordered to rest and did as he was told, not even stepping outside his newly acquired quarters to socialize and eat.  
  
You entered after a repeated knocking on the door provoked no answer even though you knew Jean was inside. The room was darkened and suffocating, an untouched food tray left to flies on the table.  
  
“Jean.” you called out meekly, waiting for your eyes to adjust to the gloom. “Are you awake?”  
  
Something shuffled in one corner and you turned to see a pale figure prostrated on a bed. He didn’t call out for you, just reached out his hand and you rushed to him, thrilled to see him again. You hugged him tightly and only when you began kissing his face did you notice his skin was clammy, salty and wet.  
  
“What happened? Are you alright?” panic in your voice was peaking with each syllable. It was still too dark for you to see, so you reached for the nightstand to light a candle.  
  
“I have kept my promise to you.” Jean’s voice came from the darkness as you struggled with matches and its listless and hollow tone made your skin crawl. He avoided answering your question. “I came back.”  
  
“Congratulations on your promotion.” you carefully shaped the words as the flame started growing, eating up the surrounding wax.  
  
Jean smiled bitterly and sheltered his eyes with a palm of his hand, painfully pinching his eyelids. “I have led half of them to their deaths.” his voice trembled.  
  
“From what I’ve heard, you have led half of them out of there alive.” your fingers unclenched his and he looked at you for the first time. “You did a good job.” The gold in his eyes was dimmed and they were rimmed with dark circles which stood out in eerie contrast to the paleness of his face, but still, he was looking at you hopefully.  
  
“Do you really think so?” his voice begged, lacking its usual confidence.  
  
“I tell it like it is.” you whispered, pained to see him so broken. “Jean… I missed you. I am so happy to have you back.”  
  
His hands gently pressed sides of your face and guided you downwards, towards his lips. Untended stubble lightly scratched your skin, the rawness of his kiss making you forget the prickling sensation. This time his kisses were hungry, the appetite of a survivor who learned to cherish life’s seldom pleasures so much more.  
  
You caressed his tired limbs, stroking your palms across his neck, down his chest and tight stomach, then back again. He squirmed under your hands and kept invading your mouth with his tongue, searching, dancing, demanding more. You instinctively knew what he needed, what you both needed.  
  
Your fingers started working, undressing him deftly and diligently, careful not to exert his wary muscles. He laid back, savoring your attention, and let you remove his clothing, one garment at a time. A voracious flame flickered in his eyes when you started removing your uniform, going through the motions with a strange self consciousness even though undressed in front of other squad members a countless times. Somewhere in the middle of it, your hands started hesitating.  
  
“Come here.” Jean whispered, “It is a man’s job to undress a woman.”  
  
You curled your legs beneath you and sat beside him, as he propped himself up and took his time with unbuttoning your shirt, one button at a time, then letting the sleeves slide down your arms, exposing your shoulders and breasts. He showered your bare skin with gentle kisses, welcoming each new curve he found with his lips, before removing your pants and moving over to your thighs.  
  
“You don’t need to do this because of…” a murmur from deep in his throat accompanied his concerned gaze which tried to read your expression.    
  
“I want this.” you said and closed in on him, placing a light, reassuring kiss on his chest. “I want you.”  
  
After you were both naked, Jean knelt above you, halting for a moment to get a good look at you.  
  
“You are beautiful.” his gasp was almost solemn, golden eyes openly darting across your body. “And you are all mine.” He sounded like he was convincing himself.  
  
“Yes,” you smiled at him, touching his cheek. “You don’t have to chase after me anymore.”  
  
Jean took his time with fondling your breasts, nibbling at them gently, carefully exploring your reactions, while your bodies got accustomed to being close to one another. You didn’t wait for him to do all the work so your fingers got busy with tracing many ripples of his muscled torso, waking his manhood to a proud stance.  
  
“You have learned to touch boys the proper way, I see.” he snickered joylessly and shifted to a more comfortable position, fully exposing himself. You put one leg across his hip, provoking a soft moan from him when your thigh pressed and rubbed against him.  
  
“Come here.” you climbed on top of him, aroused by the sight of his body beneath you, his heat below you. But what really pushed you over the edge of self control was his face; flustered and expectant, his eyes sad and hungry at the same time. The look of a complete and willing surrender, a sight Jean never let anyone else see.  
  
His palms sported new, raw blisters that kept snagging at your skin despite his effort to touch you lightly. You noticed his frustration for not being able to caress you freely, so you pointedly pressed his hand against your body. He reached behind and grasped the sensitive area just beneath your buttocks, his fingers finding their way to insides of your loins, massaging the tender flesh there, making you more than ready.  
  
You positioned yourself and slid him slowly in, effortlessly, and his hands were already on your thighs, climbing to your hips, pushing in deeper. You both held your breaths until he was entirely inside of you, the feeling of his pulsating cock reverberating through your flesh.  
  
“Ahhh…” he panted, the tension he hoped would be relived only building up once he truly had a taste of your body. “You are so soft.” his voice betrayed him. “Heavens…”  
  
You started moving and gyrating your hips, trying to find the spot that brought the most pleasure, Jean responding in suit. Clumsily at first, then more harmonized, your bodies moved of their own accord, driven by mystic intelligence you didn’t know you possessed, dancing the dance that was as old as the time. The less you let conscious thought guide your motions, the more intense was the bliss that coursed in waves through your bodies.  
  
Jean threw his head back in his pillow and let out a long, frustrated sigh, urgently stilling your hips with his hands. You understood the cue and halted the motions, leaning down and kissing him instead. His mouth was welcoming the distraction of your lips, giving back the tenderness generously, his fingers pulling your hair off your face so he could have a good look at you.  
  
“I am so close…” he whimpered as your nails dug into his shoulders, licking his neck. His eyes were pleading, “I don’t want this to end so soon.”  
  
You nodded and concentrated on exploring his torso, squealing softly in delight while his hands slid up and down your body, tracing your figure. Firm muscles of his arms and chest knotted and relaxed as he moved, so different from your soft flesh, so masculine. Without a conscious thought, your body started moving again of its own accord, blindly seeking pleasure.  
  
“Ohhh…” he panted, holding you steady again, a painful grimace knotting his brow, “Not yet, please…”  
  
You obliged once more, stifling your instinct, and kissed him hungrily instead. Jean responded, but his passion seemed to wane. When you moved away, you noticed trickles of tears across his cheeks despite his silent struggle to keep them behind his eyelids. He was reliving the mission again.  
  
“No, don’t think about it, not now.” you carefully wiped the sweat off his face, soothed his brow and squeezed your thighs tighter around his hips. You moved slowly and deliberately, putting your entire body in motion, sliding up and down his shaft while showering his lips, neck and face with delicate, featherlike kisses. Your fingers gently wiped moist tresses off his temples and slid under his head to the short undercut, combing his hair with your nails. It almost didn’t feel like lovemaking but a careful, slow and prolonged embrace, your bellies sliding across each other, your body moving over his just enough to slowly build up lust inside him again. Your lips brushed across the traces his tears have left behind, their salty residue tasting bitter on your tongue.  
  
When his arms reached out to hold you in a tight embrace and you felt his muscles tense in anticipation, you responded by cuddling your head between his collarbone and his neck, feeling tendons there spasm and stretch, tickled by your breath.  
  
“I am going to… I am… ahh!”  Jean groaned as he came inside you, his back arching so violently you felt your body ride the wave of his climax. You held him until he relaxed completely, slumping down beneath your weight and then you rolled over, stretching on the wet sheet next to him.  
  
Jean turned to look at you, his gaze, softened and grateful, resting on your face. “I am sorry.” his expression carried a trace of embarrassment, “Seems I needed that more than I knew.”   
  
“I think you have yet to learn to touch girls properly.” you winked at him, showing you didn’t mind. Seeing him spent in a good way only warmed your heart.   
  
Jean responded with a tired smile, sleepily caressing your flustered cheek with the back of his fingers. He then took your hand, slowly and deliberately, spreading your fingers against his chest. “Remember how I told you that you couldn’t hurt me if you hit me here.” he whispered, his gaze fixed at nothing. You nodded and gave out a quiet sound of confirmation, concentrated on the heartbeat under your palm.  
  
“Well, that is a lie, isn’t it?” he smiled somewhat bitterly and focused on you again with a deep devotion. “Please,” he breathed, his eyes pleading and firm at the same time, “promise you will never hurt me here.”  
  
He squeezed your hand and pressed it harder against his skin, emphasizing the point. “I can tackle politics, sleepless nights, suicidal campaigns and titans, but I can only do that if I am at peace here. I am not going to accept this promotion if I don’t have you by my side. What good is a commander who falls apart?”  
  
You listened to him and silently nodded, admiring how mature he looked. Far from the arrogant boy that let his emotions get the best of him, the one you first began to know on that late summer afternoon. You drew several deep breaths, letting the meaning and the burden of those words sink in. His golden eyes were watching you intensely, resisting the urge to rush you or to cling to you. The choice was yours.  
  
After seeing that anticipation started to chisel a worried shadow on his forehead, you leaned in, almost touching his lips with yours but resisted kissing them, and said with all your heart. “I will be here to pick up the pieces.”

 THE END

**Author's Note:**

> I love Jean's character development in the series (especially manga since the story there has moved further on) and really, really hope that Isayama doesn't kill him off *shudders*


End file.
